


Second Chances

by keita52



Series: Galactic Dating Service [8]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Letters, Slow Burn (ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 21:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/pseuds/keita52
Summary: Septimus Oraka is not daunted by the fact that Karin Chakwas' first impression of him was less than favorable.





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [proserpine_in_phases](https://archiveofourown.org/users/proserpine_in_phases/gifts).



Septimus Oraka stopped halfway to the bar at Flux, noting the unfamiliar human woman who sat there with her head bowed over her drink. He was at Flux regularly enough to know most everyone who came, whether they were regulars or merely occasional visitors, and he'd never seen this woman before.

Her black hair had several streaks of gray running through it, showing that she was in her middle years, as he was. The Alliance uniform was crisp and polished, suggesting it was not one that she wore often. A dress uniform, even. Intriguing.

Septimus walked over and slid into the seat next to hers. The asari bartender gave him a nod and began preparing his usual opener.

"Business or pleasure?" he asked the air in front of him, but the Alliance woman correctly gauged the question as being directed at her.

"Business. Which is none of yours." Her voice was crisp, with an accent he couldn't place. Not that he was an expert on human accents.

"I'm just trying to make conversation, my good woman." The glare she turned on him made him rethink the wording he'd just used. "Not 'mine', of course. It was a figure of speech."

"Hmph." She turned back to her drink, picking it up and downing the remainder in a single gulp.

He decided to try a different tack. "I'm Septimus Oraka."

"Oraka!" This time the glare she turned on him was full of contempt. He was more than a little taken aback by her reaction. He really should just leave her alone at this point, but his pride was wounded and his curiosity piqued.

Straightforward, that's what she would prefer. She was a career military woman. "I know we've never met before. I'm sure I'd have remembered you. So, may I ask, why has my name evoked such a response from you?"

The bartended put another glass in front of her, and she took a big gulp before pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You should be ashamed of your behavior. A man of your age and rank, resorting to spreading lies about a woman merely because she has other demands on her time."

"How did you…" Septimus trailed off as he made the connection. He was getting slow in his old age. Alliance dress uniform. New to the Citadel. Commander Shepard's funeral had been yesterday.

"You've caught me," he said after the silence had lingered for an uncomfortable few moments. "I behaved abominably. I have given my apology to the Consort and took steps to rectify the damage I did to her reputation. I know I cannot undo what has already been done, but I can do everything in my power to make sure I do not make such a mistake again."

"Hmph," she said again, turning her attention back to her glass.

Again, Septimus had the thought that the easier tack was to just let this pass. She didn't know him. She didn't know that his behavior with Sha'ira had been an aberration, something he was deeply ashamed of. She probably wouldn't listen, steeped in her grief as she was.

Grief. Ah. "I am very sorry for your loss," he said quietly. "Had you known her long?"

"No. Just this voyage, but …" Her shoulders straightened, some of her discipline — or perhaps just confidence — returning. "She made quite the impression on me. On all of us. I'd known her by reputation, of course, and I've been friends with David Anderson for years. He thinks — thought — highly of her."

That ‘yet’ was a bit of wishful thinking, and Septimus thought that she probably knew that. “I am very sorry,” he said again. “I know, all too well, what it is like to lose people you have served with. Especially if you walk away with nary a scratch.”

“Oh yes, survivor’s guilt.” Her laugh was bitter. “Do you know how many people I’ve counseled about that over the years? Do you know how many times I’ve felt it myself. Never like this, though. Never before.”

“Ship’s doctor, then?” he asked gently. Every word out of her mouth just made him want to know more.

She nodded. "I enlisted shortly after graduating from medical school. Of course, life in the military wasn't quite as glamorous or romantic as I thought, yet I stuck with it." She swirled the small amount of liquid in her glass around. "Of course, after this — well, I might give colony life a try. Depends on where the Alliance sends me next."

"I'd imagine you're very good at what you do. The Alliance should take that into consideration, for your next assignment."

"Flattery." She snorted, finishing what was left of her drink. Brandy, unless he missed his guess. "But accurate. I've routinely had my pick of assignments. Not to brag."

"Oh, no, please brag," Septimus replied with a grin. "It's ever so much more interesting than false modesty."

This time, her "Hmph" was an amused one. "I'm Dr. Karin Chakwas."

"Ah, you have finally given me the gift of a name! I shall treasure it always."

"You," she said, waving the bartender over to get a refill, "are a shameless flirt."

"Guilty. But you will notice that I have constrained my flirting to you this evening."

"I will give you that one." She smiled at him, finally, and he felt his heart do several backflips inside him. _Oh, Septimus, you old fool._ Had he learned nothing from what happened with Sha'ira? Apparently not.

To distract himself from the unwelcome revelation, he handed his own glass to the bartender for a refill. "So," Karin said after they had both taken a sip, "what does a retired general do besides —" She looked over at him and appeared to reconsider her words. "Hang out and drink in bars?"

Septimus thought over the various things that occupied his time and came up with the most favorable one. "Make connections for the good of the Hierarchy. The Primarch and the others must, by virtue of their positions, focus mainly on Palaven and the colonies. Those of us who have, as they say, been out in the world a bit more — we tend not to quite fit in when we go back." He sipped at his drink. "And so we stay out, and do what we can for the rest of our people."

Karin chuckled. "Loitering in bars to talk to interesting people who walk by."

"It's served me well so far," he said, deciding that a bit more obvious flirting wouldn't hurt. "After all, you came in here, and this is the most interesting conversation I've had in months."

"Since Shepard, you mean." Her good humor faded. Septimus cursed himself, even as he knew that he hadn't actually brought this bout of melancholy on. Ah, well. Charm and good looks could only go so far to cure grief like that she carried. The best he could hope for was a favorable impression for when they next met. When she would hopefully be less burdened.

Septimus kept the small talk going, but stopped short of anything that was overly forward, and stayed away from topics that might lead to Shepard. He was pleased to see her continue to relax as the drinks kept coming, a warm light in her face showing why she was such a good doctor. And she got as much out of him as he out of her.

"Alas," she said after a few hours had passed, "I think I should get back to my room before I fall over. But I — it was good meeting you, Septimus."

"Likewise. Would you like me to call you a cab?"

Karin waved the suggestion away. "I can walk. I do know my limits, thank you."

Septimus nodded, accepting this. "I hope to see you again sometime."

She paused halfway to the door, turning back to look at him. "Funny. So do I."

Hope. What a foolish emotion, and yet… it was there. It might even sustain him until he saw her again.

* * *

Of course, there were things he could do besides merely hope.

Septimus watched the Alliance news carefully, and was rewarded with an article about Dr. Karin Chakwas accepting a position at the Mars Naval Medical Center. He sent her a brief message of congratulations and noted that, should she make it back to the Citadel any time soon, drinks would be on him.

_You may regret that offer when I tell you that my tastes run to something a bit harder to find than ordinary brandy,_ she wrote back.

_What are connections good for if not to help out a friend?_ He hoped (and there it was again) that she would not take offense at his calling her a friend.

Her reply was a while in coming, and the data on the header suggested that it came from the Mars base. _I suppose I shall just have to wait and see whether you can follow through on that. They're keeping me busy here._

Septimus smiled as he read that line. His response practically wrote itself. _As you prefer, no doubt._

They were both right. It left her with less time to write back, a fact that she apologized for, later on. He responded, as casually as he could, that he fully understood the constraints she was under, and that he was happy to hear from her as often as she could write.

It would have been trivial to set up a voice or video link, but Septimus found some pleasure in taking the time to write to her, composing full letters filled with trivial details about life on the Citadel. Not to mention that it was undoubtedly easier on her, giving her time to think about responses, making it so that she felt under no time pressure to communicate with him.

He also liked being able to return to her responses, to prove to himself that there truly was a connection there. _Old fool_ , he cursed himself more than once, and yet he kept at it.

Almost two years after they had first met on the Citadel, one of his messages came back as undeliverable. Septimus tried not to worry as he reached out to some of his other contacts within the Alliance, doing his best to make the query sound an innocent one, perhaps merely a favor for someone else.

Dr. Karin Chakwas had resigned her post in the Alliance. Rumor had it she was now working for Cerberus.

Try as he might, Septimus couldn't wrap his head around the idea. Cerberus was, at its core, a pro-human militant organization. And militant was very different from the order of a formal _military_. 

Not to mention the much larger, much more concerning fact of her aligning herself with a xenophobic group. He tried not to let it feel like a personal betrayal. Karin was just one of the people he'd met over the years. Apparently, he hadn't known her as well as he'd fancied he did.

Then the news came that Commander Shepard had returned from the dead and was working with Cerberus, and her actions made a good deal more sense.

He thought about reaching out, but in the end, his wounded pride won out, and he decided to make _her_ come to _him._ If their correspondence, their connection had actually meant anything to her — then she could re-establish it.

That didn't stop him from leveraging his contacts within C-Sec to be notified when the Normandy docked at the Citadel. Or to make a point of going to Flux that night.

Where he found her waiting for him.

She was in civilian clothes this time, a high-necked red dress with white slashes in the lower half. She watched him approach the bar, watched as he took the seat next to hers. An uncomfortable silence fell between them as he tried to think about what to say.

Karin solved the problem by speaking first. "I'm sorry for going silent on you, but things were — complicated."

"I should say so," he replied, waving over the bartender. "But I did make you a promise. What are we drinking tonight?"

A smile settled across her face. "Serrice Ice Brandy."

"You have expensive tastes, Karin." He met the bartender's eye and nodded. "A bottle, please."

She shook her head. "I would have been content with a glass or two."

"One, they don't sell it by the glass. Two — I said 'drinks', not _a_ drink." He turned in his seat, not bothering to hide how closely he scrutinized her. "You look very beautiful tonight."

"I —" She looked away, a hint of color in her cheeks. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Well, you didn't actually invite me."

"No, but I … rather suspected that you might look for me." She looked back at him. "Was hoping for it. Truthfully."

Septimus leaned forward, mandibles quivering with anticipation. "Have I passed your test, Doctor? The expensive brandy, the careful attention to detail? All without crossing a line?"

She met him stare for stare, her face unreadable. The bartender returned and started to open the bottle. Karin held a hand up, halting him. "I think we'll take that to go."

He thought about commenting about presumptions, about taking things for granted, and decided that it was perhaps better not to push his luck. Instead, as she took the bottle from the counter, he offered her his arm.

Karin took it, and her smile was worth every moment of anxiety that he'd felt since he last saw her. "I rather thought you were a gentleman at heart. I'm glad to be right."

"Oh," he breathed, leaning his head in close to hers. "You may reconsider that once we've both had a few drinks."

"Is that so?" She turned a mischievous smile on him.

He wagged a finger at her. "I said once we've both had a few drinks, Karin. You've made me wait quite some time for this, after all."

"So I have. I will do my best to make it up to you, Septimus."


End file.
